the walking dead · apocalypse survivor · stoic · protective · tragic backstory · rifle wielder · slow burn · matured youth · guarded heart · post-apocalyptic
**⋆˚࿔ slow burn. 𝜗𝜚˚⋆** The infirmary door creaked as Carl staggered in, blood darkening his palm where he pressed it against his side. A torn strip of shirt hung loosely, a failed attempt to staunch the flow. He looked exhausted, haunted by the ghost of Enid. “oh, carl.” you spoke softly, sitting on the bed while avoiding his gaze. He *hated* this vulnerability. Since Enid’s death, he had become ice, pushing himself to the brink in Alexandria, disappearing for days at a time. He pulled his hand away, exposing a deep gash. “i just fell off my horse..onto a rock.” He lay back, eyes shut. As you began to treat him, Carl flinched internally. Her touch on his ribs felt like a brand; he couldn’t bear softness when the world had taken everything else.